


Revived Youth

by IsobelSionisFalcone



Series: The General and the Bosmer [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsobelSionisFalcone/pseuds/IsobelSionisFalcone
Summary: Tullius thinks he's far too old for Marielle's intimate antics. She's still going to try.





	Revived Youth

**Author's Note:**

> I can find only very few fics about General Tullius, obviously, as a writer, it was my duty to write some. There isn't a single thing about this man that I don't love, so now I'm forcing my love onto my unfortunate, but lovely readers. Hope you guys love him as much as I do.

He'd had too much wine. Too much wine and too little willpower to resist the affections of this little Bosmer beauty. As she trapped him between the door and her slender body with the strength of her feverish kisses, he reached blindly to secure the bolt. If he was going to concede to his desires, a little security would go a long way to prevent their dismissal. 'Inappropriate conduct' would hardly sound gracious in his farewell speech (he hated giving them in ordinary circumstances).

Her hands about his neck made his skin flush and tingle. The General had meant to protest, for the sake of their reputation as well as his war-weary bones, but the breathy moan that left his lips instead sounded anything but. Somewhere in the back of his mind was buried the notion that he was too old for this. Marielle may have been twice his age if not older, but she retained enough beauty, elegance and grace to be a mortal reincarnation of Dibella. Whether she was fond of practicing Dibellan arts, he didn't know, but he was sure she'd have no trouble finding willing bed partners to test them out.

Tullius scolded himself for the freedom of his inward opinions, but his attention was brought back to Marielle as she fumbled with the clasps of his breastplate. In the binary state of his thoughts, he could neither provide aid nor stop her, only able to (just) keep to the frenzied rhythm of their kiss. Eventually having not succeeded in removing his armour, she paused to gaze up at him, lips swollen and amber eyes large and lustful.

"I don't quite know what I'm doing, here," she said.

"Neither do I," he replied, although he had a feeling they weren't talking about quite the same thing.

She rolled her eyes and sighed as she muttered; "Imperials... you need to start holding your liquor better."

Before he had time to think about how many Imperials she must have bedded to know an entire race's alcohol tolerance, she had managed to tear the plating away from his chest and it clattered to the floor. Their gauntlets soon joined the growing pile of armor by the fire and the mer pressed hot kisses against his neck and collarbone. Tullius moaned, still backed against the door, feeling his member twitch in his breeches as she suckled on a particularly good spot. She ground her thigh against his growing hardness whilst nipping and licking, although what exactly she was trying to provoke him to, he couldn't tell. She was a little too soon in hoping he would become confident. Doubt lingered on his tongue, although the sight of her smooth skin when she shucked off her own breastplate made sure he put his mouth to better use.

With his youth suddenly revived, the General dipped his head to leave a trail of kisses along her throat. Marielle sighed blissfully, winding her dainty fingers through his hair as he bit down over her flitting pulse. He added a few fresh, blooming marks to her neck that blended with her battle scars (not that she had many - he'd never seen anyone quite so lithe to evade so many attacks), but she seemed to take pleasure from the pain, groaning each time his teeth grazed her skin.

"Sir, I'd very much appreciate it if we could speed things up a little," the elf told him, stripping out of her undershirt. She reached for the hem of his, but Tullius caught her wrist gently.

"You and I..." he began, still breathless after their passionate display. "Have had far too much to drink. You're a damn good soldier. I don't want to put either of us in a difficult position-

"With all due respect, sir, stop acting your age," Marielle interjected. "Besides, I think you deserve a night off."

"The war may be over, Legate..." he said, watching her shimmy out of the armoured skirt. "But we must preserve the peace if-

Again, she cut him off, but with a kiss this time, pressing her pink lips against his.

"Either of us could have died in Windhelm," she said after breaking away. "Quite frankly, sir, I've been wanting to do this since you swore me in. The thought that one of us might have come back in a box was enough to make me give it a go."

"At least you're honest..." Tullius grumbled. He was about to say something about the hindrance of his advanced years, but the Bosmer palmed his already hard member through his uniform and he gasped sharply.

"That's proof enough you want this as much as I do."

He couldn't argue with that. Or rather, his body couldn't. However, with this admission came the realisation that he could afford to let go, just this once. Rikke had retired to the Winking Skeever, as had many of the other Legionnaires. Aldis and the rest of the Solitude Guard would be sleeping in the barracks two floors down. The stone walled Castle Dour may have been cold at the best of times, but at least the likelihood they would be heard was minimal, indeed.

Marielle removed her hand upon seeing his face, normally adorned with a tired scowl, relax and began to remove her boots. Tullius followed suit, his mind fogged with arousal and traces of disbelief. He couldn't quite believe that she really wanted to make love with him, but he supposed she'd always tried just that little bit harder in training if he watched, and put herself in harm's way to keep him out of it. It didn't mean he was any less surprised, but he should've seen it coming at the very least. Over thirty years of predicting an enemy's movements hadn't bettered his sense for people, it seemed.

The pair took off what remained of their uniforms and by this time, Marielle had sat on the floor to remove her footwraps. Tullius observed the dips, curves and freckles on her skin as though her body was a map and it wasn't long before her gaze landed on him.

"This," she said, "is a view I like very much."

He made the mistake of averting his eyes, a little embarrassed by her attention, and the elf seized the opportunity to shuffle forwards, kneeling before him. The sly grin Marielle shot him was enough to make the General's pulse spike. It had been many years since he'd done anything like this and he already dreaded his probable lack of stamina. Nonetheless, he didn't stop her from tugging off his loincloth, torn between receiving long-awaited and, quite frankly, well deserved pleasure and making a fool of himself in his inexperience.

However, as soon as he felt her warm lips touch his throbbing member, he groaned and closed his eyes, his head falling back against the door. Marielle wasted no time with seductive teasing, taking him in halfway and hollowing her cheeks. She bobbed her head, going a little further each time until eventually, she had taken all of him in and knelt sucking and licking hungrily. Tullius had been right about his ability to hold out; he soon felt himself edging closer to release, but he didn't want her to stop. His hands grasped thick locks of her auburn hair and tugged sharply when she pulled back to suckle the head, but apparently, this little Bosmer was no stranger to rough treatment. If the wanton moan she let loose around his cock was anything to go by, she rather enjoyed it.

Tullius' hips rocked as Marielle sped up, keeping to the frantic rhythm he set. He was almost there. He could feel his muscles tightening as his movements became erratic, but just as he was about to let go, to feel pleasure he had not felt for longer than he could remember, she pulled back.

The look of utter desperate need written on Tullius' face made her giggle. "We need to save something for the grand finale," she said. "Help me out of my smalls, will you?"

The Imperial had to remind himself he was a grown man as his shaking hands reached for her breast bindings. She turned and swept her hair to the side, now tangled thanks to her superior. Tullius tried not to think too hard about what he was doing; not only was the wine starting to give him a headache, he knew the doubt would creep back, spreading from the corners of his mind until he was consumed by it and couldn't carry on. It wasn't that he didn't want this, but he was still concerned about his position.

As he removed the last remnants of her clothing, no more than flimsy undergarments, his mind was made. Marielle was a beautiful and charismatic little elf whom was willing to make love to him. He wasn't getting any younger. Opportunities like that were few and far between. Tullius could also admit to being fond of her, so it wasn't as though he was only in it for the sex...

Pretty nose, delicate lips, soft hands, warm skin...

"General?"

Her voice broke the daze and he tuned his eyes firmly on her.

"Unless you want to do this standing up, we should probably move to the bed," Marielle said. "My leg is still sore from taking that dagger, so I'd rather-

"The bed will be perfectly adequate," Tullius replied. She giggled at the awkwardness of phrasing (or rather, the lack of intimacy in it), and took his hand. The descent to the sheets was far more graceful than he'd anticipated, although he supposed that had nothing to do with him; the little Bosmer. although she lay down first and pulled him on top, was still very much in control.

She lifted her head to kiss him, although she was gentler than before, lifting a hand to card through his hair. His heart was pounding with adrenaline, but it was different from the rushing and panic of the battlefield. This was almost... pleasant, dare he think it. A warmth came from knowing that he didn't have to expect an arrow in his back (it was with a grimace that he thought it would probably hurt tomorrow, anyway), nor did he have to worry about the heavy casualties of battle or the Emperor's assessment of the Stormcloak's defeat. As Marielle moaned beneath him, Tullius knew only she had brought him this peace. Only she was brave enough to try.

That struck a bow string in him, somewhere.

Desperately trying to recall any memories of similar experiences in his youth so that he wasn't completely clueless, he slid into her slowly, smothering her moans in their kiss and, when he finally hilted, he couldn't help the shivered groan that slipped past his lips. Long forgotten sensations consumed him and fire licked at every nerve, coursing through his veins and fueling his desire. Marielle made a sweet array of little pleasured sounds and mewled when he dragged his hips back, (he was sure they'd be sore in the morning) gasping when he rocked forward. With a few more tentative thrusts, he found a little more confidence and heeded her cries of 'faster, harder, please!' before she stopped speaking coherent English. He assumed he was doing something right as he watched her mouth fall open and eyes roll back in her head.

Sweat beaded on Tullius' brow as he grunted and dipped his head to her neck, breathing hard against her flitting pulse and taking the flushed flesh between his teeth and sucking, when he had the clarity of thought to do so. She uttered a string of pleas and curses in a foreign and beautiful tongue he did not recognise, no longer knowing where her General ended and where she began. Marielle curled her legs around his hips, feeling his ridged abdominal muscles tensing rhythmically, so he rubbed firmly against her sensitive bud with each thrust. She gave a keening whine as Tullius at last became a little more aggressive, not deliberately she was sure, but if the freely given moans and the throbbing of his cock inside her were anything to go by, he was close to release.

Suddenly, he changed his angle, lifting his hips a little higher and gripping her waist. This alteration in position allowed the discovery of the sensitive spot inside her and she arched her back, making a high-pitched noise that was something akin to a squeal as he brushed over it with every stroke.

It was good. Far too good. Tullius panted desperately, snapping his hips forcefully against her slim and dainty ones. The sight of her blush, her skin glistening with sweat and her silky hair spread over the straw pillows was making him shiver deliciously, and the pool of pleasure low in his gut was nearly enough to make him burst. Marielle begged him not to stop, told him she was so, so close and that she loved him.

She loved him.

By the Gods, she loved him...

The General had never assumed she was the type for casual intimacy. It just wouldn't fit the brave and selfless elf. She was romantic, in her own way, even though she was arguably one of the best soldiers it had ever been his honour to fight alongside. Still, it was surprising to hear that, of all the people the Dragonborn could choose, it was he who claimed the soul of this Dovah. At over a hundred years old, Marielle was one of the most experienced Legionnaires, but it was no secret her beauty, like that of a young sigil of Dibella, was admired across Skyrim. In truth, the brutish Nords and scorning Altmer held no competition. Neither did the men of any other race. She wanted a level headed and mature, intelligent man, not some young buck with a tendency to start bar brawls. Tullius was exactly who she was looking for. She'd known it since joining the Legion.

Tullius chanced looking at her face and saw the furrowed brows and bitten lip that meant her climax was rapidly approaching. He kept going, spurred on by her cries of his name and the curses he didn't understand until she clenched around him, nails biting into his broad shoulders as she arched forcefully against him. The end of Marielle's climax started the beginning of his and, with a loud and drawn out groan, he released his seed in her before collapsing onto her warm breasts. Her heart thumped against his cheek, his against her toned abdomen, as they lay there, quiet and sated. A calm seemed to settle over the room in which both of them were pleasantly exhausted, cosy and completely at peace. Tullius knew he'd be aching come morning light, but for once, as her fingertips stroked through his hair, he thought the compromise was worth it. He could imagine doing this more often. He hoped Marielle could, too.

"I'm not normally the 'roll over and snore' type," she began with a yawn, "but I think I'll skip round two. I should have brought some stamina potions..."

His eyes widened. In what realm of Oblivion could anyone go more than one round at a time with this beauty?

"Agreed," he replied. "on both counts."

She chuckled and closed her eyes, giving a satisfied sigh. "I've got a healing potion in my pack if you need it, sir," she teased. "Besides, a little haggling with my fellow companions, and I might be able to persuade them to let me have the day off, tomorrow. Plenty of time to brew those potions and visit my favourite Imperial."

Oh, yes. General Tullius could definitely get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Long live the Empire, if you know what I mean. ;)


End file.
